Lucky to still be here!

Leaving Argentina and Chile, crossing to Boliva was a refreshing experience, although the former are cool countries they do seem quite European while Bolivia is anything but.  We are back into getting into buses that break down at least 5 times and people will stand for 10 hrs - it is very cool.

So we headed to Potosi, the highest city in the world standing at 4200m.  It used to be the richest city in the world due to large silver deposits, it was also very surreal. I will just tell you two stories.  The first the mines.

I had been told I had to go on the mine tours, and been a bit of a fan of mines, ie, enjoyed visiting various mines in Wales I was sold, but nothing would prepare me for this experience.  First we went to the market to buy presents for the miners and I had been told that you could actually buy dynamite and blow it up.  I know it is Bolivia but I was sceptical, but still I asked our guide if I could buy some, she told us that due to someone blowing them selves up the week before it would not be possible - good rational so I was not going to argue.  So I bought a few things including 96% alcohol that the miners drink - I am now blind.  So we finished our purchasing and our guide said we could actually buy some dynamite as she had remembered it was Friday and the police would be drunk - not so infused, pardon the pun, we went to the shop.  I have never felt so scared walking through the market and into our van, bouncing up and down with hot sunlight streaming through the window onto the stick on dynamite resting on my lap.  We finally reached a clearing where we proceeded to roll the dynamite into a ball and attach Ken and Barbie figures to our bomb.  We stood next to our guide as she lit both fuses and then told us to run very fast up the hill, - no one argued and I managed a sprint at even 4200m.  40m away we stood as our guide counted down the 2.5 minute fuse, as every second went I could see everyone stepping back and back.  It should have gone off, I had my camera ready, I started to relax then boom.  My God it was massive, a dust cloud engulfed us, the noise was deafening, the batteries even fell out of my camera due to the blast,  I started to cry as I realised Ken and Barbie were no more.

We then proceeded into the mines, no lift or train you just walk through a small tunnel.  On all previous tours to mines they are obviously shut and major safety measures are enforced, been Bolivia it was the opposite.  As we walked down the tunnels, miners would work, pushing silver ore passed us as we ducked to the side.  I kept scanning the floor as large holes would be at the sides lurking in the dark, two stories deep and no safety rails - it was getting fun.  The four of us in the group were all on an adrenaline fix, ranging from scared joking to a silence only a man before death can produce.  We scrambled up wooden laders and down little holes to get to new levels within the mine.  Breathing is hard at now 4400m but in toxic tunnels it becomes quite a mission - there is no ventilation.  We continued down this tunnel when I heard a drone in the distance, any noise when in a small tunnel in the middle of a mountain putts fear into any man.  The noise became louder and louder.  We came to a hole in the the ground which stretched the whole width of the tunnel and about a meter in length and the hole was about 10-15 m deep.  We had to cross the hole by bracing the walls and then reach the other side which was a 45 degrees steep scree slope, which was so lose it was not funny.  We bridged our way up this tunnel for about 30m were the noise was coming from.  It was the end of the line, the cliff face.  Two miners were working it with a air powers drill that took two to operate.  It was very interesting to watch but also scary.  The rest of the 2.5 hrs in the mine were spent exploring and watching the miners working, but we actually got to help the miners at each part, it was crazy.  We pulled the borrows of ore, lifted silver between levels in baskets, used hammers and chisels to prepare the dynamite holes.  This was not staged work for tourists but their actual job.  After about two hrs our guide started to talk to some miners in a level below.  She then proceeded to tell us we should move down the tunnel a bit as they had just lit 15 fuses of dynamite.  I could not believe it, outside we saw how big the blast was, so this was suicide - I was going to die down a bloody mine - great.  We sat huddled in this little tunnel, just waiting, until our guide said we should continue as they had not gone off yet.  I again did not argue, but then it felt like we where doubling back, excellent - certainly dead now.  Then we heard and felt it, muffled booms and a slight trembling under foot, not half as bad as expected.  I left the mine alive, but shocked at the appalling conditions that the miners as young as 13 work for upto 24hrs a shift.

I tried to relax that night but woke upto to carnival in town.  Each town has its own version of the Rio carnival, but unlike the funky costrumes of Rio, ours just looked like a water and foam war, the whole of this quaint town was literally a war zone.  Every 5m old ladies would be selling water bombs, even in the back streets, there was no safe haven.  So when in Rome, we armed our selves and decided on the rule of engagement of 'fire only when fired upon', it lasted two seconds, 'incoming' bombs at all angles, we ran for cover.  We took safe haven in bar until we bumped into two English guys and a girl, we discussed our revenge.  We would take advantage of the English pound and buy over whelming fire power.  The five of us took our positions in the main square, nothing really happened for about 3minates, then a shout came 'Gringos', slang for tourists.  No lie the square seemed to stand still, locals attacking locals just stopped, like waking into a dodgy pub.  They just turned towards us stopped  and then charged us.  About 40 to 50 locals charged us, it was like a scene from a football riot.  We lasted 10 minutes, our supplies soon drindled, our arcs flanked, it was our last stand, we were getting killed.  Eventually we managed to evade the enemy, totally drenched, we found our hostel, and colapsed.

The water fighting lasted all week end, every car would soak us, you left your hostel for 2 minates, you would be attacked.  The next bit I feel slightly guilty about, so do not judge me too badly.  We had to walk the mile to the bus stop, again I was armed we water bombs.  Next thing 'incoming', I turned round to see a family launching numerous bombs at us, I fired back.  The problem was in panic I misjudged my trajectory, my bomb was too high, smash.  It hit a window, instead of bouncing off it went straight through the glass.  S..t, I am dead now I thought, so I walked upto this family head in hands and offered to pay for the window.  They were just laughing and told me to run, I turned round to see the rest of the people doing the same.  I had no choice but to do exactly that, I still feel bad but this is Bolivia.

Photos to follow if I am still alive tomorrow as I am doing the 'worlds most dangerous road' on a bike.  Sonjas parents do not panic as she is not as stupid as me and is going shopping.  Must go and walk the 200m to the hostel but have a foam gun in hand so might be ok!